Timmy Bear
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Ziva looks at the parallels between her favorite childhood toy and her newest "toy." Birthday fic for iheartGibbs!


She lies in her dark bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. Beside her lays her teddy bear, her constant source of comfort. That soft form, so warm and cozy. She finds that no matter how bad she feels, simply knowing that he's there makes her feel calm and serene.

Ziva would never admit it to most people, but she's always had a childish love for teddy bears. Since she was a child she has built up her collection—a collection that is now securely hidden in storage, lest someone like Tony should stumble upon it and use it as ammo with which to tease her. The stuffed ursine collection began with her first teddy bear, a large, furry, soft bear she named Motek (a Hebrew term of affection that meant "sweet" or "sweetie"). He had been easily twice her size, but he had never scared nor intimidated her. In fact, he had only ever comforted her, providing her a safe haven when she felt sad or frightened. She would escape to her room; Motek would be propped up against her far wall, his ever-present grin facing her and his floppy, stuffed arms lying open, just waiting for her to crawl into them. She would settle herself into his lap, her head ending just below his chin, and would wrap his arms around her. Then she felt secure and protected. No doubt, if anyone tried to hurt her, Motek would jump into action, his pleasant smile morphing into a snarl as he defended her. He was, after all, a bear, and that's what bears did for the ones they loved.

Like many childhood things, she had slowly outgrown her cuddly friend, but only in size; in her heart, she would always love and appreciate him for the comfort he had given her. Never judgmental, never cross with her, and always there to hold her when she cried, not minding if she shoved her sobbing face into his chest and stained him with her tears. For those very reasons she'd vowed to always keep a teddy bear on hand, a companion to be there for her and to let her cry to him. Of course, she didn't cry now the way she had as a young girl, but when she did it was nice to know that someone cared, no matter who that someone was. Sometimes the simplest companions were the ones most dear.

She turns over in her bed and snuggles closer to him. The large, soft, warm body feels so wonderful when she presses against it; it feels even better when his gentle, caring arms reciprocate and snake around her body, cradling her against him lovingly.

In Timothy McGee, Ziva had found herself another teddy bear, albeit a far more adult-friendly one. The unassuming computer geek had been the first to open his arms to her upon her assignment to Gibbs' team and he had never thought of her as anything less than a teammate (among other things). When she spoke, he listened quietly and attentively. When she was angry, he let her vent, gently holding her as she calmed. On the rare occasion that she cried in front of another person, it was him. Of everyone on the team, he was the only would she would allow to see her cry. It wasn't that she didn't trust the others to give her sympathy, but he was the only one who didn't make her feel awkward about it. He would gather her into his warm, consoling arms, letting her rest her tear-drenched face on his chest while she let it all out. At the end of it, he would smile at her and tenderly wipe away whatever tears remained.

He was the personification of a teddy bear: soft, comforting, patient, and almost always with a smile on his face. But he was no pushover; much like a true bear, when he or a person for whom he cared was threatened, Tim didn't hesitate to spring into defense mode. Not that Ziva couldn't fend for herself, of course (she could probably do so better than Tim could), but just knowing he had that fire inside of him, that he would defend her without fear, made all the difference.

She lays her head atop his chest, feeling it rise and fall slowly with every long, deep breath he takes. As she lies there, she can hear his heartbeat reverberating within his comfy chest. Admittedly, that is one thing that Motek and her other teddy bears had lacked. But she likes hearing it; it's soothing to her ears, like a calming lullaby.

"Mm," she hums softly. She can feel herself on the verge of slumber, nearing that point where she'll fall into deep, dreamful sleep. "My motek," she whispers to him. "My sweet Timmy Bear."


End file.
